Note: This is a seattlepi.com reader blog. It is not written or edited by the P-I. The authors are solely responsible for content. E-mail us at newmedia@seattlepi.com if you consider a post inappropriate.

Bellevue’s Downtown War Memorial

Robert “Bob” Shay is haunted by a twenty-foot circle of ground at Downtown Park.

The well-spoken Bellevue resident is many things: Union carpenter, Career salesman, a Navy vet who volunteered during the Vietnam War, and grandson to a Russian sniper who served the Czar during the Russo-Japanese War. But above all that Bob is wholly dedicated to restoring a crumbling monument that was planned in Bellevue back in 1920, and ultimately erected in 1926. He first saw it in 1987, purely by accident, and it has held his attention ever since. Almost single-handedly he has given voice to this piece of ground, when others have forgotten or never known. His is a simple goal, founded on a simple idea, and giving honor once again to a simple memorial.

The monument stands quiet in a growing city.

The square concrete base – set around a flag pole with three elm trees – was placed in town to honor three Bellevue men who had lost their lives during World War I. A plaque, added by the Bellevue Minute Women, named each soldier and quoted a line from Rudyard Kipling’s poem Recessional, which at the time had become a rallying cry for those who wanted to remember and further themselves from the hounds of war – “Lest We Forget.”

Tucked away under two of the three original trees that covered it in the 1920s, the memorial stands as quiet testament to the honor and sacrifice that was shown long before most of us were born. Its current condition is grave. The flag pole that flew from the center of the concrete base broke off long ago – when, nobody knows – leaving a potentially-fatal crack across the cement; the seam has been filled with epoxy in places as a stop gap.

There is a cement cap on top of the base, which may or may not hide the remainder of the flagpole; Bob has been trying to line up a team that can scan the base to see what is in there. “There may be the rest of a flagpole,” he states, “or there may be nothing. We just can’t tell.” One of the three elm trees surrounding the base was damaged during a wind storm; the parks department tried desperately to save it at the time, but in the end could only save its memory by planting a new tree in its place.

Bob wants to reverse the damage that time and nature have thrown at the monument, while continuing the work he feels the Bellevue Minute Women wanted to do.

We know virtually nothing about the Minute Women, only that they existed. Historic archives give only trace clues from the hours of research Bob has done on the library’s microfiche machine. There are notices of get-togethers, and an alert to the ceremony where the flag pole was erected. But after that, the Minute Women vanish. Even Bellevue Lifespring, which has been known in this are as Overlake Service League for a century, has no record of the group. But the Minute Women were very dedicated to making the monument happen.

“It’s clear that they thought this out,” Bob says. “Because they planted the trees in 1920, six years before the base was poured.”

In 1936, the memorial appeared on a King County aerial map as three smallish trees in the upper left portion of the red box (there is also a fir tree that is of unknown origin). They were planted facing 102nd Avenue NE, which at the time extended north from Old Bellevue. It no longer exists in this block:

Today, the grove of trees is substantial from the air, including the “invader fir” that has gotten as big and much taller as the memorial elms. In its own way, the grove stands out on the flat former school yards that now make Downtown Park. First glance sees the trees, which blend into this serene place as a break in the monotony of flat open field. But it takes investigation – truly getting under the massive elms – to see there is something of value there to view and think about – a time in human history that changed the course of the world forever.

The 1914 – 1918 conflict was supposed to be “The War to End All Wars.”

World War I stands as a time when the honor and tradition of wars in the past confronted the technology of wars in the future – with disastrous results. It was the first major war to use airplanes, tanks, massive guns, and mustard gas. The world’s major powers were pitted against each other for four years of bloody fighting that hammered Europe. Over 9 million died.

It did not end war.

Even though World War I occurred nearly 100 years ago, the above image of a soldier in a gas mask – along with his dog – is still creepy. Maybe even more so, now that we know what Mustard Gas could do to someone not protected by this kind of equipment. When I look at this picture, I think of trenches, devastating losses, and the song War Pigs by Black Sabbath. Frankly, I’ve concluded that World War 1 had its own brand of savagery.

And it was in this environment of mud, munitions, and mustard gas that two men from Bellevue died in action – while a third died of disease while deployed in Europe.

Victor Hanson is the only man we know anything about. He was a Private, with the 308th Infantry Regiment, 77th Division who died in action October 12, 1918. Private Hanson is buried at Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery in Romagne, France.

Victor Hanson – Photo courtesy of Eastside Heritage Center

The other two men seem to be lost to history. There were three Oscar Johnsons who fought for the US in WW1, and government records for them are scarce. Nothing is found on Victor Freed at all. But even if history has nearly forgotten Oscar Johnson and Victor Freed, the monument in Downtown Park still remembers – quietly displaying their names for those who view a plaque which was placed with love and honor so long ago. I asked Bob what he thinks about when he sees that monument, even after visiting it for more than twenty years.

“For me,” he said, “it’s about three guys who gave everything.”

And as the plaque proclaims, three guys paid “the supreme sacrifice.” The message there is simple, and more focused on these honorable men than on the fact that we know very little about them. While the history of each man is veiled in the passing of time, the history of these Doughboys is one of heroism and sacrifice. Bob’s efforts to restore this monument transcends the First World War, rather it stands as testament to all those men and women who have defended our country – whether they were born on this soil or not.

The goal is to place a granite Doughboy on top of the base, much like one that exists already at Evergreen-Washelli Cemetary in Seattle. Granite was recommended as the material because metal is too valuable. “I’m told the arms are the first things that get stolen,” Bob says. Knowing the costs involved, he estimates that his vision for the monument will take up to $30,000 to see through. He also added that every dime donated goes towards the project; he takes care of his own overhead. Bob has set up an account for the work at Bank of America where people can donate; he also takes donations through the mail.

Bob’s efforts are bringing honor back to a quiet memorial for three guys from Bellevue – and others like them – who gave everything to serve the greater good. We can help his cause – our cause actually – by getting the word out or contributing to his efforts. For more on this project, check out the resources below – including a great article from the Bellevue Reporter on the monument, and all the contact information for the project.

Next time: Bellevue through the lens, as we discover another corner of our city. Until then, enjoy the view!

Note: This is a seattlepi.com reader blog. It is not written or edited by the P-I. The authors are solely responsible for content. E-mail us at newmedia@seattlepi.com if you consider a post inappropriate.